


One of Us

by TheGatsbyGirl



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Blackwatch Era, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Moira Ships It, Pining, Self-Acceptance, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-19
Updated: 2019-02-19
Packaged: 2019-10-31 17:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17853953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGatsbyGirl/pseuds/TheGatsbyGirl
Summary: “‘Jesse. Where you come from doesn’t mean shit. You’re one of us.’‘Am I?’It’s impossible to articulate the ‘why.’ Jesse is a Blackwatch agent because he’sgood—he makes people laugh, he asks questions, he never misses a shot. He drives Gabe up the wall. He listens. He reminds him of what they’re here for. He makes himcare.”Written for February ofMcReyes Monthliesfor the prompt “I’m your huckleberry.”





	One of Us

_I heard you tellin’ lies_

_I heard you say you weren’t born of our blood_

_I know we’re the crooked kind_

_But you’re crooked too, boy, and it shows_

 

_So, collect your scars and wear ‘em well_

_Your blood’s as good an ink as any_

_Go scratch your name into the clouds_

_And pull ‘em all down_

—Radical Face, “The Crooked Kind”

* * *

Her lab is so cold he can see his breath.

  
“Hello, Gabriel.”

  
“Commander Reyes is fine, thanks.”

  
Moira stands and claps him on the shoulder, which is probably the closest he’ll ever get to a hug from her. He shouldn’t expect anything like that, though; he should hate her. But he knows who she is, and he knows that they’re too similar for him to resent her completely. They’re two sides of the same coin trying to change the world. One of them just has more finesse than the other.

  
He sits and she gets straight to work filling a syringe with God knows what.

  
“Aren’t you cold?”

  
Moira chuckles, pressing the needle into his shoulder. “I don’t get cold.”

  
Right. Moira can’t get too cold, or too hot. Technically Gabe isn’t supposed to either because of SEP, but he feels a lot of things he’s not supposed to. Cold is the least of them.

  
The needle stings for a moment, but the pain is quick. “This should accelerate the decay rate,” Moira says. “Currently it needs an emotional catalyst, but eventually your will should be enough.”

  
“Kay. Just as long as it doesn’t kill me. I have a meeting tonight.”

  
Moira asks “with who” and Gabe can’t answer. If he does, she’ll give him that look that says _I know how you feel_ and he’ll have even more guilt to deal with.

  
“Oh…” she says. “It’s McCree.”

  
He stays silent as she sticks wires onto his chest, even as his arms begin to itch.

  
“Have you made your grand confession yet?”

  
Gabe’s eyes narrow and the itch grows stronger. “There’s no confession to make. And if there were it would be vastly unprofessional.”

  
“Like you care about professional. You’re in _Blackwatch,_ for fuck’s sake.”

  
God, she’s impossible, he thinks as he looks at her angrily. “I let you do this, you stay in Blackwatch. My personal life is none of your concern.”

  
Moira’s eyes flare. “Strange how you give me your body but you won’t let me know what you do with it.”

  
Rage-fueled smoke rises from his skin and Moira grins as wicked as ever.

* * *

Gabe spends a lot more time on his looks than he’d care to admit. He didn’t do much in the grand scheme of things, just taking his hat off and washing the remains of sleep from his face. But it’s the first time in a while that he’s bothered to make himself look presentable and feels pretty good.

  
He enters McCree’s room and finds him sitting on his bed holding something silver, which he immediately drops when he meets Gabe’s eyes. He tries to play it off with a smile and a salutation. “Howdy.”

  
Gabe shakes his head. “God, never say that again.” McCree snickers before Gabe asks “so what’s up?”

  
“Hm?”

  
“Why’d you request a meeting? And why’d you request it here?”

  
McCree’s face breaks into a crooked grin. “I got bored.”

  
_“Jesse.”_

  
Shit. Is that the first time he’s called him Jesse?

  
It doesn’t matter. He’s a little shit either way. “Well, I carved out an hour for you. Might as well use it.” As he sits on the bed, Gabe leans forward and picks up the silver thing that he now sees is a beaten up harmonica. “You know how to play this?”

  
Jesse shrugs. He almost looks embarrassed. “A little. What kind of a cowboy would I be if I didn’t play harmonica?”

  
“Show me, then.”

  
Okay, he’s definitely embarrassed. “You sure? I ain’t even that good, and playin’ makes you look like an idiot.”

  
“You always look like an idiot.”

  
Jesse mumbles “fair enough” and demonstrates. And he’s right, it does look pretty stupid. In order to play a single note he essentially has to eat the harmonica. But he’s wrong about not being that good. He plays clear as day without pausing, and he can even do that thing where the notes wobble—“warbling,” he learns it’s called. The worst thing about it is that Gabe can’t stop looking at McCree’s mouth. The way Jesse effortlessly wraps his lips around the thing sends Gabe’s imagination to places it should _not_ be going. Then he licks his lips and Gabe has to ask where he learned how to play so he can focus on something else. Jesse mumbles something about “back then” and tugs his sleeve down to his wrist. That’s one of the weirdest things about McCree; he always wears long sleeves when he’s given the chance.

  
“You don’t have to cover that up, you know?” Gabe points at the arm where his Deadlock tattoo is hidden.

  
“Yeah I do, boss. D’you see anyone else with one of these on the team?”

  
He doesn’t want to pry, and he doesn’t want to force Jesse to deal with anything he’s not ready for yet, but it’s been three years and Gabe needs him to know that he belongs here. “Jesse. Where you come from doesn’t mean shit. You’re one of us.”

  
“Am I?”

  
It’s impossible to articulate the “why.” Jesse is a Blackwatch agent because he’s _good—_ he makes people laugh, he asks questions, he never misses a shot. He drives Gabe up the wall. He listens. He reminds him of what they’re here for. He makes him _care._

  
All Gabe manages to say is “you’re way too fucked up to not be a Blackwatch agent,” which is shitty and insincere and the opposite of what he wants to tell him, but it gets Jesse to laugh. So he tries again. “If anything, that ink is a scar, and we all have those. You came out swinging and have something to show for it. Wear it with pride.”

  
When Jesse rolls up his sleeve, Gabe gets a really good look at him. He’s beautiful like this; hair messy, light catching on his eyelashes, lips swollen from the harmonica, scar bare and proud. “Hey, just realized somethin.’” Jesse brings the harmonica back to his lips and plays what can barely be called a song. It’s only a few seconds long and doesn’t sound like more than three notes.

  
“The hell was that?”

  
“Your name. G-A-B-E.”

  
That’s the worst thing Jesse McCree has ever done, and Gabe has never wanted to kiss him so badly. “You’re a huckleberry.”

  
“But I’m _your_ huckleberry.”

  
Gabe tries to just settle for pulling him into a hug, but Jesse’s head fits so perfectly under Gabe’s chin that he can’t settle. He presses his lips into his hair, whispers “goodnight, Agent McCree,” and is gone before he can see Jesse touch his head and wonder if Commander Reyes really just kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> (Can you tell I play the harmonica)  
> First of all, I know the title sucks. Second of all…wow, I actually wrote the pairing that's taken over my conscience. Nice. Shoutout to fabrega and smarshtastic for running this lovely event and giving me an excuse to write these men. For maximum angst, listen to [“The Crooked Kind”](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YsLccI7_MbA) while reading. The lyrics are painfully McReyes.  
> \-------  
> Thank you for reading this. Comments and kudos water my crops!  
> Yell at me on [tumblr](http://kataruhh.tumblr.com) | [twitter](https://twitter.com/TheGatsbyGirl)


End file.
